Desperate and Daring 02 - Belle of the Ball (16 page)

Draven arrived early as promised and found Anabelle enjoying herself among a bevy of eager swains. They dispersed quickly after his arrival, which Hazel thanked him for, but even she seemed less perturbed by him than usual. In her hand, she held a sprig of witch hazel, its yellow blooms vibrant in her pale hands. He stared at it curiously before turning his attention back to Anabelle.

“I see our second dance hasn’t dampened any spirits.”

“On the contrary,” she waved one arm throughout the room. “Notice that we do not resemble a flower shop this afternoon,” she said cheerily.

Draven was happy to see it, but there were still quite a few blooms. Lady Wellsford joined them shortly, handing Draven a missive for his mother. He took it dutifully and ushered Anabelle out the door to his Phaeton. As much as he actually enjoyed teasing Hazel and charming Lady Wellsford, he had serious business to attend to. Wooing was not natural to him and it would take all his attention.

The afternoon was fine, a light covering of clouds, but no accompanying chill. Anabelle looked like a Christmas candy in a white day dress with thin red stripes. He found her delectably enticing. She unfurled her parasol and twirled it as he took the lane towards Hyde Park. Being seen driving with him was another one of those occasions that would lead the masses to thinking there was a budding engagement between them. He wondered if she would mention it or felt at ease because of it.

He hadn’t been confident she would take to the dance floor a second time with him last night, but she had, and he hoped it meant that her opinion of him was changing. He’d never had to convince anyone of his better nature, never cared to actually. Though, with her, it felt like he was walking a fine line, and he didn’t want to falter.

But what if he did fail? His pride had already suffered a blow by practically begging to be on her damnable list, and he was the last to boot. The last gentleman of her choosing and yet the only one to actively pursue her. He knew other gentlemen had interest. Her name was even in the betting books at Whites as one of the first to be wed this season. But none of them dared to actually approach her father, which is exactly what Draven had done.

Perhaps she would be married by now if she hadn’t been determined to find herself a love match. Draven smiled smugly. Perhaps she would be engaged if Draven hadn’t been engaging her secretly. He hadn’t thought of that until now. Their little dalliance had kept her distracted as it had him. How fortunate for him. If he hadn’t been stealing kisses from her, she might have been stolen from under his nose.

He needed to stake his claim. Once he did, no other man would dare to poach on his territory. This drive was a good start. A drive in the park was one of the many ways a gentleman could politely and appropriately stake his claim on a woman. He only hoped that the woman sitting next to him would want to be claimed openly by him.

There was a lot at stake. A different weight settled upon his shoulders. It was the weight of uncertainty, the weight of pressure to not only wed, which he had never felt before, but also to specifically wed her, or his future happiness could be at risk. Draven had never considered what that idea meant. In the past years since his father’s death, he had simply carried on. Enjoyment came and went in fleeting moments like passing clouds. He didn’t consider himself unhappy, but happiness was something that sounded unattainable, like catching a star.

Up until now, the idea of happiness was a figment of imagination, a children’s fable. Characters lived happily ever after in stories, people—real people, lived a life sometimes good and sometimes bad and then they died. Was there more to it than that? He looked at Anabelle from the corner of his eye. She was smiling at two boys chasing a ball down the walk.

Draven had never wanted happiness until now, and he honestly believed happiness would be found in marriage with Anabelle. He didn’t know what he meant exactly, but if happiness were an obtainable thing, then surely it was waking up next to her in the morning, claiming her body at night, and listening to her peck and lecture him about his less than appropriate behavior.

He wondered what she would think of his rambled musings. No doubt, his own mother would be quite shocked if she knew what he was thinking. Even he barely recognized his thoughts at times. He’d never taken the time to consider these things before. Was this what women thought about?

He snorted.

“Did you say something?” She turned to him.

He kept his gaze on his horses. The street got more crowded the closer they got to the park. “I was just thinking.”

“Really?” she said with skepticism.

“Yes, really. I do, on occasion, think of things,” he said dryly

“What sort of things?” she asked with dubious interest.

He cut his eyes to her for a moment before returning his attention to the street. “Women, their odd behaviors, things of that sort.”

“Our odd behaviors? Have you considered your own behavior of recent?” She laughed.

It was a tinkling light laugh, and although he should feel a measure of insult, he was enjoying himself. “I have considered my behavior, actually.”

“And?” She angled herself towards him.

“I never said I understood it. I just go with it. If I want something, I take it. If I decide to do something, I do it. My methods haven’t failed me yet.”

“If you want something, you just take it? Including women?”

“It depends on the context. If I want a woman, I can be sure she wants me, too.” He slowed as they approached an intersection and glanced at her. Their eyes met, and he was sure to let his meaning show. Her cheeks had a beautiful pink flush. Good.

“And if she doesn’t want you?”

“They always want me.” He winked.

That earned him a playful swat.

“Such arrogance.”

“You deny that you have desired me? Don’t play games Anabelle. We are far too gone for that.”

She folded her arms across her chest, using the parasol as a shield between them. “This is not the time or place to discuss such things.”

“No one can hear us.” He flicked the reins and they began to move again. “I’ve done my part to show my interest. I’ve spoken to your father, I’ve gained your agreement as well, but the real question is… what do you want, Anabelle?”

She was silent for a moment. “I’ve told you what I want.”

“You’ve certainly laid out a foundation, but there are pieces missing, aren’t there? First with the ridiculous list—”

“My list was not ridiculous. It was simply a means to—”

“Narrow down husbands, yes, much like chores or tedious obligations one must tend to. But you spoke to me of love. How can a list show you love?”

“That’s laughable coming from you.” She returned tartly. “The list was simply a means of direction. If I am to be honest, I will admit that I don’t know anything about love or how to identify it.”

Draven considered that. “Nor do I. Do you think you’ve witnessed love?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I believe Heather and the duke love each other. I base my idea of love on them.”

“Not your parents?”

“Well, I’m certain my parents love each other, but there are other aspects to their love I am not and would rather not be privy to, but I can recognize it as something I want.”

She hesitated, but Draven was sure what her next question would be.

“Were your parents in love?”

He shrugged, struggling to find a memory of them together. He spent so little time thinking of those days. It was easier that way. “It is only recently my mother has been well enough to leave her bed.” He could feel her gaze on his face. He felt uncomfortable sharing something so private, but with Anabelle, only complete honesty would do.

“I’m sorry she was ill,” she said.

“She wasn’t ill, not in any traditional way. My father died, and suddenly, she didn’t have the will to get up. I was sure she was going to die, too. I did everything in my power to prevent that, frequent visits with my sisters, fresh flowers daily… I read to her, had the girls perform plays for her and sing for her. Anything and everything to see the glimmer of a smile, to hope that she could care a little less for him and a little more for us. At least enough to keep living.” Draven clenched his jaw. The memories made him angry all over again.

Anabelle was silent. He was upset now, that much she could tell. She was amazed he would share something so intimate with her, something so personal and obviously, painful. It was as if his façade was cracking, and underneath, there was a completely different man, a human. Ethan. He was hiding who he was or at least a very large part of himself.

“I’m sorry. That must have been very difficult.” She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she wasn’t sure that was something he would want. There was still so much she didn’t know about him.

“It’s in the past,” he said after releasing a tight breath.

They had reached the park. It was a hive of activity. Draven wasn’t in the mood for such frolicking gaiety now. So much for his wooing abilities. Instead, their conversation was morbid and depressing.

“We don’t have to go. We can just drive about the city,” Anabelle offered. He looked positively wretched at the moment. She also hoped they would have more in-depth and revealing conversation.

“I’d like that much more.” He flicked the reins and turned the Phaeton around. Backs to the park, they went down the opposite street in silence.

Anabelle prayed he would say something, anything, but he remained quiet. She decided to introduce a lighter topic.

“Will you stay in the city after the season?”

“Usually, yes, but I think a visit to the country is in order. It has been some time since we’ve returned to the family home. It’s time to return. Do you enjoy the country?”

“I do. Riding, fishing, hiking, and even shooting.”

“Fishing?”

Anabelle nodded proudly. “With two daughters, my father insisted on taking us fishing and shooting. My mother hated it, but Hazel and I enjoyed it very much. I’m quite the fisherman.”

“I will have to assess the fishing skills.” He smiled.

Anabelle was pleased to see him smile, even if it was small and close-lipped. It wasn’t one of his miraculous and revealing smiles, but it was a smile nonetheless. They continued on, Anabelle doing the bulk of the talking and sharing, but it was still revealing, because he was very interested and amused by her childhood and growing up with a twin. He asked questions and listened intently, and when he dropped Anabelle off at her door and walked her up the steps, she felt like they were both a little closer to knowing each other. To understanding exactly who the other person was and maybe that was how one fell in love.

Draven pondered their conversation for days, aching over his own confession, but not regretting it. He had a new impression of Anabelle. That of a vivacious young girl who enjoyed being outdoors as much as any lad. He liked that. He was smiling as he pictured her while he escorted his mother and followed by his two sisters up the steps and knocked on her door.

The butler answered, looking formidable and yet pleasant, and welcomed them in. They were escorted to the drawing room where three smiling faces turned to greet them. One fell.

“Where is darling Raven?” Hazel said with overly dramatic disappointment.

“I was not going to make such an absurd request as for them to bring their puppy, Hazel.” Lady Wellsford laughed and stood to greet her guests. The ladies settled in their seats and conversed cheerily. Draven watched in amusement as Mary and Felicity rushed to Anabelle and Hazel’s side. He was happy they liked her and Hazel, too. Being so close, he imagined they would share many occasions with Hazel and her future spouse.
If
Anabelle consented to marry him.

Lady Wellsford announced that tea would be had in the courtyard since the day was exceptionally lovely. The courtyard was more of a formal garden with trimmed hedges and rigidly kept beds of flowers. Benches were placed sporadically and a table had been set under the shade of the house. Tea and sandwiches were served. Draven was on his best behavior, doing well to keep his mother and Lady Wellsford smiling and laughing. Anabelle and Hazel entertained his sisters, but Draven would make a point to talk to Anabelle again, perhaps on one of the more distant benches.

His mother looked radiant today. She was dropping many hints about her hopes for him and Anabelle. He didn’t want to give her too much hope, he himself still unsure of whether he could win her hand. He knew that to do that he would need to win her heart, and that was where all his experience and intelligence fell short. Seducing he could manage in his sleep. He could bring a woman to completion with his fingertips, but the heart was another matter. The workings of a woman’s heart weren’t something he had cared to understand until now.

As tea was finished and the sandwich plate cleared, Draven recommended an exploration of the garden while the mothers continued to chat. He offered his arm to Anabelle and she took it without hesitation. The hesitation was gone from her eyes. He accepted the win humbly. He was glad she no longer feared the idea of them being viewed as a couple, at least in the comfort of her home. His sisters ran ahead, Mary letting go of her reticence to chase Felicity around a bed of roses. Hazel even entered the foray when roses were plucked to become swords.

Anabelle laughed at their antics and Draven used the distraction to draw her to a bench just out of earshot from the other three. She looked up at him and smiled, but there was a question in her eyes.

“I can’t sit alone with you? We’ve had very little time to be alone. It’s becoming tedious.” He attempted a mournful pout. “I miss touching you.”

“You just had my arm.” She laughed softly.

“That is not the kind of touching I want.”

Her cheeks brightened to a lovely shade of pink and he felt a modicum of satisfaction. Was she thinking of their past touching?

“You have been behaving admirably.”

“It’s been a trial, I assure you.”

She laughed again and looked out over the garden.

Draven watched her profile, greedily consuming the softness of her skin with his eyes, the gentle slope of her nose and the plump outline of her lips. He’d give his right eye to kiss her now, to pull her close and show her how much he craved to feel her body against his. He was desperate to get her alone, but that would be near impossible here, unless a miracle happened. He swore at that moment to take advantage of whatever opportunity presented itself.

Felicity’s screeching filled the air and she ran to him, plopping herself on the bench between them and cowering into his sleeve.

“There was a bee, Ethan!”

He sighed. All his amorous inclinations evaporated. “We are in a garden, poppet. This is where bees work.”

“That’s silly.” Felicity huffed in the kind of dramatic outrage only a child could achieve.

“It is fact. The bee did not intend to bother you, nor you it. It’s long gone now, off to visit other flowers.”

“Oh,” Felicity said dejectedly.

Mary and Hazel joined them and Draven offered his seat to Hazel, who kindly refused. They returned to the drawing room at the behest of the mothers and accepted a fresh pot of tea. Draven was surrounded by women but was content to let them chatter around him, as long as he could simply stare at Anabelle. What he wouldn’t give to be alone with Anabelle. Mary’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“He is always moody or brooding. Mother says that’s how he chooses to display his masculinity.”

Draven felt a burning blush crawl up his neck to his face. “I beg your pardon?”

Mary continued her deconstruction of him, addressing Anabelle and Hazel as if she were reviewing a painting. “I think it’s because he misses Papa. Papa always made Ethan smile or laugh. But now Papa isn’t here, so Ethan never smiles or laughs.”

Draven felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. Anabelle was beside him, as still as a statue, and he himself wasn’t sure he moved or breathed. His vision darkened. He panicked and bolted from his seat. “Excuse me.”

No one said a word as he left the drawing room.

Anabelle watched stoically. She had never seen him so bothered. The girls, so innocent and oblivious to the effect of their perceptive observations, changed the subject to the mare about to foal and predictions of its coloring. Hazel shared a speaking glance with Anabelle, but Anabelle was at a loss. The mothers had returned to their conversation as well, though her mother was shooting her glances.

Anabelle stood awkwardly. “Please excuse me.” She didn’t know what she was doing or what she would say when she found him, but somehow, it was her duty to do so. She had an ache in her chest as she entered the foyer and looked about the hall. She kept picturing his face in her mind. The shock, the utter despair. Ethan. His sister had so lovingly referred to him as Ethan as she destroyed his carefully constructed wall. There was so much pain and anger in his face, unmasked before them all. He was still just a boy who wanted his father, and that boy was completely at odds with the man he presented, the villain he liked to play for fun, the rogue who spouted seductive words to her in the moonlight so long ago.

Rogers, the footman, nodded in the direction of the servants hall leading to the back of the house and out to the mews. She nodded her thanks and followed it. She passed servants along the way who directed her to the mews and at last, she found him with the horses of all things, forehead pressed to the neck of a sturdy steed by the name of Maddox. Anabelle paused inside the shadows, a curious silence and emptiness filling the stable. It was deserted, or so it seemed. The workers must have fled at the sight of him.

Anabelle stepped forward slowly, still nervous of her welcome, and what it was she was meant to do for him.

“Did you come to ask me questions?” His voice reverberated in the silence.

“No, not if you don’t want me to. I just wanted to see how you fared.”

He didn’t respond.

Anabelle stepped forward and rubbed Maddox’s nose. “This is Maddox.”

“So I gathered.”

Anabelle didn’t fault him for his temper. “He is an ornery sort, but my father loves him. He will be moved to the country permanently after the season.”

Draven sighed and moved away from the horse but still kept a hand on his neck. “He is lucky then.”

“He made his own luck. Most refuse to handle him. Our driver wanted to shoot him.”

Draven snorted. “Good horse.”

Anabelle mustered her courage and moved to Draven’s side of the stall door. “Perhaps you can take him off my father’s hands if you like him so much. You two would be quite the pair.”

He turned and looked at her. His face was still hard and emotionless. “Are you comparing me to this horse?”

“I can see a certain similarity.”

“You find me difficult and stubborn?”

“You deny it?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you come here to insult me?”

“No.” She looked around. “Did you scare everyone away?”

“People who work with animals are often fine-tuned to the emotions of others. They scattered like mice when I entered.”

“We are alone then?”

“Yes.” He watched her carefully, his eyes taking on a mysterious glint. “What are you doing here, Anabelle?”

“I came to find you. It was obvious you were upset by your sister.” She saw his jaw tense and he looked away from her. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but we should return to the others.”

He looked back at her. “They sent you?”

Anabelle shrugged lightly. “In a way.”

He turned and faced her fully, stepping close to her. “They sent you alone?”

Anabelle looked around. “It would seem so.”

“Cheeky. Didn’t they know you would be in danger?”

Anabelle scoffed. “Of what? I am in my own home. Would you ravish me at tea with your mother and sisters?”

“We’re no longer in the presence of my mother and sisters.” His arm came around her and pulled her against him. “This is all I’ve wanted for days.”

She put her hands up to his chest. Her hands stilled on the front of his coat and found themselves content to remain there. “You wouldn’t put my reputation at risk.”

“You trust me? We would be forced to marry. That is what I want, isn’t it?”

Anabelle felt short of breath. “You wouldn’t.”

“No.” He chuckled. “I will have a proper yes from you. But, for now, I will steal a kiss.” He did just that. His lips claimed hers like a victory, confident and nimble.

Anabelle didn’t have an ounce of fight. There was always something inside her that came to life and eagerly anticipated his touch. She couldn’t control it. She wasn’t even sure she could push him away if she wanted to—if she would ever want to.

She opened her mouth, hungry for him and the kisses that would drive her to distraction. It had been so long, too long. She hadn’t realized she had missed it until now. How could she forget how exciting it felt to be pressed against him like this, to feel his arms around her like a cage of desire she never wanted to escape? Her arms slid over his shoulders and twisted behind his neck. She pressed herself even harder against him. She wanted to feel the warmth of him, the pressure of his hard chest against her breasts, the hot palms of his hands on her bare flesh.

She was overwhelmed by the urge to get closer, to feel all of him against all of her. He groaned and tore his mouth way. He was panting into her neck, his breath hot and moist. Anabelle refused to let go of him. She didn’t want to stop just yet. She peppered his neck with kisses, exploring the line of his jaw daringly with her tongue. She smiled triumphantly when he vibrated against her.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” She repeated the swirl of her tongue around the lobe of his ear.

“Dammit, Anabelle. I want to pin you against the stall wall, lift your skirts, and sink into you. I swear, I will do it if you keep doing that.”

Anabelle stopped. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, her heart beat frantically with the urge to be daring, but she couldn’t do it. Her body wanted to agree, but her head still had a firm grasp on reality.

He eased her away from him, adjusting his jacket in front of him. “Now you know. There is a price to pay if you tempt the devil.”

Anabelle still couldn’t catch her breath, so she just nodded.

“Let’s return before they assume the worst of us.” He held out his arm and she took it. They were silent as they made their way back to the drawing room. Stopping in the hall, Anabelle checked her hair. Despite the rush of heat and desire in her body, her appearance was completely unchanged. They reentered the drawing room. Anabelle prayed she wouldn’t blush. It would be a dead giveaway. Amazingly, they were given no extra attention and after a few minutes, Lady Draven announced it was time to depart. Even after goodbyes were said and they departed, Anabelle was sure she would be questioned about the extent of her and Draven’s absence. They were not formally engaged. Surely, such an absence would not be excused.

Not a word was said by her mother. Hazel gave her a curious look but said nothing more. Anabelle couldn’t believe her luck. Did they simply not notice? Or perhaps they didn’t appear to be gone that long? Whatever the case may be, it appeared everyone was on board with an engagement between her and Draven. But was she? Yes, she desired him. She couldn’t deny that. But she still faced the same questions. Could she marry him? And more importantly, could she love him?